For the first time ever I have been tagged in one of these internet games of catch 'n kiss. I'm not sure of the etiquette here, do I thank "Tara A. Rowe" of The Political Game, if I do, I'll say thank you Tara from Idaho. I really, really hope that you stumbled across my meagre little blog because I posted something on the wonderful potato a while back! I know that Idahoans must get awfully sick of hearing about potatoes, but as a Tasmanian, I say that we should be proud of the humble spud!
Apparently I am to do five things:
- Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
- Open the book to page 123.
- Find the fifth sentence.
- Post the next three sentences.
- Tag five people.
All right then, to the book!
"He is from a large local family of Sicilian policemen, and he and I have often passed words on street corners or chatted reticently over coffee at the Coffee Spot, though we've actually never "met." I have tried to talk him out of a half-dozen parking tickets (all unsuccessfully), and he once assisted me when I'd locked my keys in my car outside Town Liquors. He has also cited me for three moving violations, come into my house to investigate a burglary years ago when I was married, once stopped me for questioning and patted me down not long after my divorce, when I was given to long midnight rambles on my neighbourhood streets, during which I often admonished myself in a loud, desperate voice."
This snippet is from the terribly good Independence Day, by Richard Ford. This is the second in a trilogy and awfully impressive work. Very Updike (in the best way). I'll get around to posting a review sometime in 2009.
Now for my tags:
- The Coach of the Partisans!;
- The incredibly sexy Jen of the More Stitch'n Than Bitchi'n blog;
- The Brother, and his movie review blog (that he hasn't posted on in ages and let everyone down);
- The Political Umpire, who I know has been tagged in other contexts;
- E.K. Bensah II who contributes to a number of interesting blogs in Ghana.
So if any of you guys actually read this, here you go.
Comments
"And did you spend them all on crisps and mouldering Bounty bars during labour? Change machines, though a marvelous idea, wouldn't survive the night in most hospitals. Maybe there should be the maternity ward equivalent of ticket touts hanging around in trilbys, with unlit fags dangling from their thin lips, offering you change for a fiver at usurious rates."
From Marcus Berkmann's Fatherhood - The Truth
No wonder Henry walks all over you.